Caroline Storer - The Roman’s Revenge

As she entered the cave, she gave a small gasp of relief. Metellus was right. The cave had been furnished with all the basics needed for a short stay. There were several wooden cots for sleeping, complete with straw mattresses. With the cloaks they had used for blankets, Livia was sure the sleeping arrangements would be more than adequate, and a lot better than what they had been putting up with in recent days. There was even a small table and some chairs, as well as several pots for cooking. The well, Livia had noticed earlier, was only a short walk away, and she had to control her eagerness to wash away the accumulated grime of the past seven days.

She looked down at the dirty silk of her tattered gown, and smiled ruefully. Her friend, Portia, would faint at the sight of it she was sure, not to mention the state of her hair and broken nails! Portia had never, as far as Livia knew, ever set foot out of her villa without every curl on her head perfectly coiffured, and every gown clean and wrinkle free. She had often admonished Livia on her carefree attitude to her toilet, but Livia was unconcerned about spending hours getting ready to go to the baths, or the Forum, just so they could impress the men they passed on the way.

But, as she lifted a hand to her scalp, and felt the sand and salt encrusted in her hair, she wondered how Portia would have coped these past days without her much coveted creature comforts. Livia’s smiled deepened, as she conceded to herself, that right now even she would part with her last sesterce to be able to wash her hair!

“Is this all for us?”

“It would appear so. They said they would leave supplies for us – and here they are,” Metellus said, picking up one of the wooden crates which had been stacked some distance away from the gate.

Livia looked up at the wooden barricade, and although she couldn’t see anyone she was sure they were watching them. “Thank you all so much. You are most kind,” she said, shouting up the hillside towards the closed gate. She hoped they could hear her; as she wanted to thank them personally for their kindness.

When she looked away from the fort she saw Metellus looking at her with an odd expression on his face, “What is wrong?” she asked.

Metellus shook his head, “Nothing,” he said breaking eye contact with her, before walking back to the cave with two large wooden crates loaded in his arms.

As he made his way up the steep hill, Livia watched his broad back in front of her. His refusal to answer her, made her angry. It was obvious he was surprised she had shouted out her thanks to the lepers; but she was grateful. She wasn’t the spoiled daughter of a rich Senator as he seemed to think; she did have some compassion for the poor people stuck here on this island for their whole lives; and she was grateful for all their kindness as it meant their survival.

Metellus entered the cave, a frown of annoyance on his brow. Every time he thought he had Livia Drusus summed up, she did something to confound him! This time was no different. This time it had been her shouting her thanks to the lepers.

Ah, yes. Livia Drusus was a contradiction he hadn’t expected. A woman who had gotten under his skin from the first moment he had seen her on board the ship. Metellus shook his head, determined to forget Livia for a few minutes. Concentrating on the task ahead of him, he lowered the crates he’d been carrying onto the floor. A quick look inside revealed bread, flour, olives, dates, fruit, and cheese; and there was enough to last at least a week, maybe even more. He had to concede, the lepers had been very generous indeed.

A slight noise behind him heralded Livia’s arrival, and he watched her from the corner of his eye as she lowered the box she carried onto the floor next to his. In silence she unpacked its contents, several wooden plates, some spoons and a terracotta jug of milk.

“Shall I prepare some food while you go and get the other two crates?” She asked a few moments later, breaking the silence between them.

Metellus’s eyebrows shot up in surprise once again. Again, she had shocked him with her offer of help, and he was just about to answer when she placed her hands on her hips in a gesture of defiance as he realised he had overstepped the mark and had been caught out.

“You once said not to judge a person by their looks. However, you seem to have done exactly that where I am concerned! I am not so ignorant of people, or situations, even if I am the daughter of a Senator.”

Metellus smiled inwardly at the anger bristling out of her. She reminded him of a small kitten he had once owned that used to spit and fight him. Lifting his hand in surrender he said, “Put your claws away, Livia. I apologise. Yes, some food would be nice. We will eat like the gods tonight.” He bowed, a slight movement from the hips, before he made his way to the cave entrance. But then he stopped, turned and walked back to where she stood. He lifted her chin, taking in the slight widening of her pupils, before his head lowered to hers.

“Do you forgive me?” he whispered, staring at her mouth in fascination. Full and soft he wanted to taste it. Now. The subtle scent of her was like a fever in his blood and it lured him in. He dropped his head, and found her mouth, his kiss a whisper across her lips, as he teased the fullness of hers, absorbing the warmth of her. He felt her shiver in his arms, and it was all the inducement he needed to deepen the kiss. He moulded his lips to hers, his tongue demanding entry to the sweetness of her mouth, and felt a moment of triumph when he heard her gasp, before she opened her mouth and allowed his tongue to plunder the softness within.

He tasted, teased, took what he wanted, what he needed from her, as his hand loosened its hold on her chin, to trail over the pulsing beat at the base of her throat, before it skimmed downwards over the sides of her ribcage, over the soft curves of her waist, until it splayed over her hips allowing him to pull her compliant body into his, so her softness met with the hardness of his arousal.

“Livia. Beautiful, beautiful, Livia,” he whispered against the fullness of her mouth once he had finished kissing her and began to trail his mouth downwards. They fit so well together as if they were made for each other-

Reality returned with the force of a tidal wave, and he stopped, as he tried to quell the myriad of sensations he was feeling for her. With obvious reluctance he pulled away from her, putting some much needed distance between them, aware of his chest rising and falling with exertion as if he’d run for miles. He had to supress the urge to pull her back into his arms, when he saw the twinge of disappointment flit across her face. Instead, he turned, and stalked out of the cave as if the fires of Hades were licking at his heels.

Jupiter’s blood! He’d done it again. Kissed her, touched her, when for the past day he had expressly told himself to keep his hands off her. She was too much of a temptation, and he wondered how on earth he was going to stay away from her for the duration of their enforced stay on the island. If the past few days were anything to go by, it was going to be an uphill struggle!

She seemed to inflame his senses every time he looked at her. He wanted to take her, to make her his. Slip his hands up beneath the length of her silk gown and caress the smooth skin of her thighs. Higher, until he brushed the dampness of her inner core, until he slipped his finger into the heat of her, and watch as she came apart in his arms.

He cursed. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He’d never felt anything for the women he’d taken before. He only gave of himself physically. He was incapable of feeling anything more. He didn’t allow any woman to breach the defences he’d erected so many years ago. It was what he demanded of himself. Because to allow any other emotion, apart from revenge to dominate his feelings was anathema to him.